Beach fog

My mom and I went for a walk on the beach this afternoon/evening, as a way of closing out the daytime for today. Although bidding farewell-until-the-morrow to a sun that hasn’t been technically visible all day is a bit odd, it didn’t stop us.

The fog, however, almost did.

I had measured distances to various things yesterday, and we found today that a certain spot that was .19 miles away, straight up the beach, was not visible. That set the visibility at about .18 miles this evening.

It was almost spooky, but that it didn’t feel spooky; it just looked it.

See how the world just seems to end? The typically seemingly infinite beach is short; it is blocked by fog.

An unexpected result of this walk on the beach, however, came after about twenty minutes of walking.

I turned to my mom, and, seeing her hair soaked, asked her what on Earth she had done – it looked like she’d been splashed by a wave. Seeing as how she’d been seeking and picking up seashells, it wouldn’t have surprised me if she had been splashed by a wave while picking up something. However, she replied that she hadn’t done that, hadn’t had that happen. So, what was the deal, then? Why was her hair soaked?

That’s how thick and dense this fog was – it was clinging to her hair, soaking it. I asked if mine was the same, and she said it was.

We took a picture to document the absurdity of our walk on a not-rainy day at the beach. By the time we were walking home, we were wiping soaking wet eyebrows and eyelashes, too.

Post-a-day 2021

^Whoo! Just barely!

Turning insignificant into loved

I started working at a clothing store as a part-time job recently. And kind of ‘just because I wanted to do it’. I had never worked in retail before this, and I had often felt that I might be well-suited to being paid to organize and fold stuff (something I already do when I go into stores as a customer, anyway, but, of course, not for pay). So, I am giving it a go.

Walking to the store today to work, I had geared up for the pouring rain: Waterproof boots, a long raincoat, backpack waterproof cover, and an umbrella. The only thing not covered directly by waterproof material was my sweatpants – odd how that is singular yet not…. a single item of clothing, yet referenced as a plural for its two legs… yet we do not reference a shirt as plural for its two arms/sleeves…

Anyway, so, I am being very careful as I walk on the sidewalk. It is placed directly beside the road, with no buffer – genius, I know (meaning What idiotic brain fart planned this sidewalk?). Whenever I come up to a spot where there is a puddle in the road, I quickly run a large arc away from it, before joining back with the sidewalk, doing my best to avoid any possibility of being splashed by passing cars.

Just after I cross the train tracks, when there is nowhere to arc , and I am just running in a straight line to pass a puddle, a single car comes speeding up from behind me. There are no other cars around, and the car easily can move into the left lane and avoid hitting the massive puddle on the right lane… and the bright yellow individual who cannot be considered invisible right now.

The car does not move over. I notice just in time to jump forward and pull up my legs as best I can in front of me.

Almost my entire left pant leg, and some of my right, is suddenly soaked, completely through to my skin. My leg is actually dripping wet on the left.

I curse in an outraged yell, as I continue on my way, somehow embarrassed.

After setting everything down in the back at work, I change into my regular shoes, and head out to check in, eyes already beginning to burn. The moment she asks me how I’m doing – the standard check-in – I starts to cry. I cannot help myself.

I’m okay, but I’m not okay right now, I manage to say a couple times. I explain briefly what happened and that my pants are currently soaked through, and that, as I am now seeing with clarity, I am not only physically uncomfortable, but I am living in the experience of having been unworthy of being noticed. Insignificant out on the street, thus completely missed by the driver. That was my experience, no matter what logic told me, and I was still processing that experience and all the emotions that went with it.

She got it completely. Do I want to go change? she offers. I don’t have anything to change into, I reply, still in active tears.

“Okay, do you want to go pick out some pants?” I hesitate, considering how it doesn’t work for me to go buy something for myself right now.

“I’ll get you some pants,” she clarifies at my hesitation to respond. “Go pick something out from the sales rack, and come check back in with me, and I’ll get them for you. And then you can go change.”

And so I did. And she did. And I changed into dry, fancy, brand new pants. And the world was suddenly a lot easier to take in when I was no longer soaking wet and mentally preparing how to survive the next five hours as such, and somehow be in a good mood and help people and walk around with ease.

I checked back in with her once I was changed, expressed clear and direct gratitude for handling the situation so well – so immediately and so effectively – and for creating a space for me to clear things up for myself by removing the strong physical discomfort aspect of the situation. (Think how we are miserable and can’t function properly when we are super hungry, and then our brains suddenly work again after we’ve gotten the needed nutrition. Better yet, think about how a bull or horse will buck and buck like crazy, even after the cowboy is off its back, until that miserably tight burr strap is loosed off its hindquarters.) It has been a no-brainer for her, and she was glad to have been able to help clear it all up for me. After all – and she didn’t say this, but we both know it – I can serve the store and its customers best when I am at my best… and wet and miserable is certainly not my best. So, it was beneficial to the store for me to have the new pants, more so than just the cost of the pants, but for the cost of all the customers with whom I would come in contact the rest of the day.

I don’t know if she bought them herself, or if there is a budget for the store to be used for such odd, here-and-there occasions. And I’m okay with it either way. I am nonetheless grateful that this person considered such a solution, whatever the details of it, and made it happen. And immediately. It made a world of a difference for me, and I was and still am extremely grateful.

Plus, I actually really like the pants. They were comfy to wear, and they are a really pretty color. Thank you, K. You turned a terrible experience into a lovely and loving one. And I am grateful.

Post-a-day 2020

Showering

******Beware of bodily functions in this one******

As I prepared to get into the shower tonight, I suddenly found myself remembering certain silly instances in my childhood in which I would find myself jumping out of the shower to use the bathroom.

I remember how I would skip like crazy on the toilet seat, because I was soaking wet and hadn’t dried myself at all in those two steps it took to get from shower to toilet – I just had to poop so badly and so suddenly that it couldn’t wait another few minutes for me to finish showering.

It didn’t happen all that often, but it was definitely a regular occurrence for me – I remember it all so clearly, the times of being wet and on the toilet seat… and then having to figure out how to manage toilet paper when, again, my body was all wet…. I couldn’t even get it off the roll, because my hands were dripping with water!

I eventually learned to hop back and forth from foot to foot while drying the backs of my thighs and my hands, and then would turn to the toilet ASAP, still not always dry, but dry enough.

There was a definite art and timing to it all… and I have no idea why I couldn’t just go before I got in the shower…, but it is what it is, I guess… it was what it was, at any rate. 😛

Haha

Children are silly, I swear… 😀

And yes, I am fully aware that I am referring to myself, too, on this occasion… derr… haha

Post-a-day 2020